Hey There, You


elle_icon.gif odessa_icon.gif peter2_icon.gif

Scene Title Hey There, You
Synopsis Peter goes to see Odessa about the Rage-Dementia case, and to ask about a checkup, but a surprise visitor turns all that upside down.
Date November 3, 2008

Primatech Research: Level-5, Odessa's Office

Round and round and round she goes. Where she stops? Nobody knows. There's nothing to do while Doctor Knutson waits for Doctor Suresh to offer a second opinion to the results she's come up with. It takes a while to send samples to India! So, she sits on the chair in her office, spinning it over and over as she stares at a spot on the ceiling, singing along - quite poorly - with her stereo. "Round and round. With love we'll find a way, just give it time. Round and round. What goes around comes around. I'll tell you why…"

"You're gonna' throw up if you keep doing that." Peter has the most remarkable knack for showing up when least expected. Leaning on the door frame, looming between the office and the hallway, Agent Petrelli cracks a smile before swinging one foot ahead of the other and sauntering on inside. "Any word back from Suresh yet? You know, you could've just asked me to deliver the samples myself, India's only a bat of an eyelash away after all. Besides, I'd like to catch up with Mohinder sometime…" His eyes wander away from Odessa, down to the floor, "There's some things I'd like to talk to him about…"

"Whoa!" Odessa's hands come up in a surprised gesture as she abruptly stops the chair form spinning, coming to a stop facing the agent. "You scared me." She flashes a smile as she waits for the rest of the world to catch up with her lack of momentum. "Suresh values his privacy. I… think you might prove a distraction right now, you know?"

There's a mild sound of discontent from Peter at that answer, he's over-eager to find out exactly what's going on, and not just with the sick Evolved. "Did you hear about what happened to Woods?" One brow raises slowly as Peter makes his way, meanderingly, through the office with his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks. "He's off duty for at least a month and a half, and he called in two weeks of vacation time on top of that…" There's a mildly disconcerted expression on agent Petrelli's face, "Sabra's reassigning me to two other agents…" He sounds uncomfortable with the idea, "I ah, wasn't sure if you'd found out or not yet."

Doctor Knutson shakes her head. "I knew Woods was a little… Well, I hadn't heard about the reassignment. Who is Madame Dalton saddling you with, then?" Odessa's head tilts to one side curiously, blonde hair spilling over one shoulder.

"Agent Fitzpatrick and Agent Lee." Peter sounds quite uncertain of the names, as if they were foreign words slipping off of his tongue. "I've never met either of them before, I guess they've been called in to help work on this case, given its severity." He frowns slightly, exhaling as sigh as he makes his way over to another rolling chair an an opposite desk, settling down with a creak of the plastic frame. "And, I guess also to babysit me, given how disappointed Sabra was with my performance…" One hand comes up to rub across Peter's forehead, fingers tracing the scar on his brow.

"What makes you think I have feelings for Agent Buckley?" Not one to actually linger on a topic that obviously causes discomfort to another person, even to the point of allowing the subject change to come off as awkward and painfully evident, Odessa moves right along. To an issue she actually cares about.

Peter stops leaning back in the chair, breath hitching in the back of his throat as he sits up straight and stops his eyes deviation towards the ceiling. He looks squarely at Odessa, head tilting to the side with one brow raised, "W-what?" There's a certain look of bewilderment on Peter's face when the topic is brooched with as much blunt force as a blow to the head with a cast iron skillet. "Odessa, I — ah, I don't really think that's any of my business." He shrinks back a bit from the conversation some, eyes wide just slightly, watching the blonde with a mildly unsettled expression of confusion that doesn't fade.

"You're the one who suggested it, Peter. Suggesting that I should help you because it would please Agent Buckley, as if I were sweet on him or something. I'm not." Odessa's chest heaves with one indignant huff. She isn't sure that Agent Buckley isn't sweet on her, but she doesn't presume to understand such things. "Don't look at me like that. This is your fault!"

Peter flinches slightly, brows tensing as he looks down to the floor for a moment, "I don't remember — " He stops right there, brow tensing for a moment, "I didn't mean to imply that." It's the best cover he can think of as he rises hesitantly from his chair. "Did, um, did you ever get that prescription of Buckley's venom medication I asked you for?" His quizzical expression remains, but for wholly different reasons. He's quick to leap away from that conversation, espescially given how spotty his recollection of the event actually is.

"Yes, I have it. But I told you I wanted to test you first. No sense in giving you drugs you don't need. I'm not entirely sure how they'll effect your other abilities, either. So I'll need to monitor you closely. No ifs, ands, or buts. You're no good to anyone if the meds play haywire on you. You understand me?" Odessa fixes Peter with a severe look.

That's not the answer Peter wanted, and it shows on his frustrated expression. However, he seems to be much more capable of dealing with disappointment than he was a few weeks ago, "Alright, alright." He runs one hand through his hair, breathing out a heavy sigh that causes his shoulders to sag some. "It's just — " He grumbles to himself, it's not something he can easily explain. "Meds aside," the change of topic again merits a few steps taken towards Odessa. "You're a bit rough around the edges today, cabin fever?" His head tilts to the side, trying to lighten that severe look with a lopsided smile and a tilt of his head, it works on some people at the very least, even if the expression comes off a bit more as helpless rather than helpful.

"You think?" Odessa narrows her eyes just a touch, her look dark. "You promised you would help me after Agent Bishop was recovered. Or have you forgotten that, too?" In addition to the slitted eyes, full, pale lips purse tightly in displeasure.

Peter's lips purse together, head tilting to the side, "I, yeah, I did." He looks askance at the young doctor, approaching her a bit more. "And when Elle is recovered, I will help you. But until she is, I've kind've got my head going in too many directions. Director Dalton already gave me a stern talking to about trying to help out on the Bishop case, since I wasn't directly assigned to it, but it's my fault she's missing, and that makes it my responsibility that she gets back here safely." Obviously, Peter hasn't heard the news.

"…" Odessa rises to her feet and scrutinizes the agent. "What's wrong with you, Peter?" Her head cocks to one side curiously, "Don't lie to me, either. I'm your doctor. You can trust me. Privilege still exists even in these walls." Criticism gives way to concern as Doctor Knutson employs the archaic method of pressing her palm to his forehead.

The hand to his forehead causes Peter to flinch and hop a step back, and the color drains out of his face, "Nothing is wrong with me." He's a terrible liar. "I — What does this have to do with Elle? Nothing." Taking a few steps away from odessa, Peter's head cants to the side as his dark eyes settle on her in an uncomfortable expression of scrutiny and nervousness. "I'm not sick. I just have a lot going on right now, alright?" He does look sick, though. The dark circles around Peter's eyes show that he hasn't been getting enough sleep, and the weariness in his voice has been somewhat telling. It's like he's been spreading himself too thin lately.

"You're lying." Odessa crosses her arms over her chest. "What are you so afraid of? Little ol' me?" Slowly, a mischievous smile spreads across her face. "I won't tell anyone that you're having issues, and I'll give you that prescription with no strings attached, if you get me out of here."

An open door is an invitation, as far as Elle sees it. After being cooped up for more than a month in a tiny space- and then a week more in a bed? Yeah. She's ready to be /doing/ things. Heels click-clicking coldly against the hardness of Level Five's floor, Elle looks the picture of calm smugness as she heads down the hall towards where Odessa lives, one hand trailing its fingers against the wall. From looking at her, nobody would /know/ that she's still a little oogly and not quite herself, strength-wise. Or that she really should be resting, still, for her own benefit.

She does pause as she hears conversation, right inside the doorframe with her arms folded across the stomach of her halter. "Hmm. Hope I'm not interrupting anything?" The voice is coy. Obviously, she doesn't care.

Snorting loudly, Peter looks quickly back over his shoulder to the door the moment before Elle waks in, reaching out towards it as if he were going to have it close. But when he sees who comes strolling into the lab, his eyes grow wide and his hand very slowly lowers to his side, head canting and one brow slowly rising. He's never seen her in person, but the hours he spent staring at a picture of her during his fruitless search ingrained Agent Bishop's image into his mind. Peter's jaw gapes, brows knitting together to crease the scar across them into an expression of abject confusion, "E-Elle?"

"Agent Bishop." Odessa quirks a brow and levels a look at Peter. See? You're sick. Didn't even know, did you? The doctor turns a brilliant smile to Elle and glances down. "Cute shoes, Agent Bishop." She shuffles her feet, clad in a pair of sky blue heels. "I do think I told you to stay in bed, though. Is something the matter?" What is it with the patients being so defiant lately?

"You must be the new kid," Elle returns smoothly as she eases her shoulders off the frame, batting the door behind her and stepping further towards the other two in the same motion. As she does so, she stretches out an index finger to gently trace the line of Peter's jaw while sweeping a look into his eyes (bubble invasion!), as though examining a hamster for fitness. "Peter. Why so surprised? I'm not a ghost."

Odessa's compliment is acknowledged with a slight widening of that still, expectant little smile. Her eyes are still trained up towards Peter. "I rather think so myself, Odessa. Yes, I came down here for something; and, yes, I'm not in bed anymore. I feel fine." Her tone implies a 'what're you going to do about it?'

Peter can't help but stare as Elle saunters over and places a hand on his chin. He tilts his jaw up, almost as if compliently, then takes an unsettled step back. His head cants to the side, one brow lowering as he stares intently at the girl, then shifts his head angle, before finally blinking and straightening, "Elle." Mohinder had fooled him before, this time his inquisition into the mind wasn't quite as light, but it was certainly illuminating. "Elle how — " He catches his words in his mouth, shooting a glance over to Odessa, then back to the blonde with a look of bewilderment not really escaping him.

He grows silent, in that distance, just watching the doctor and her patient for a brief moment, before looking down at the floor with an almost lost expression. The entire reason he had stayed behind at the Company, his promise to Bob, and now she's here — safe. Peter raises one hand, resting it against his right temple, looking to the side as his eyes follow the black and white checkering of the tiled floor. "But I…" The uncertain words are whispered to himself, and he thinks back to that dream. "How — " Slightly more vocalized, "How long have you been back for?" There's his voice, he's found it again.

"What did you need… Elle?" When Odessa speaks the agent's first name, it's almost hesitant. As though she isn't sure she's allowed usage of the given forename. She peers between the two in her office now, a little apprehension growing.

Elle lets Peter's jawline slip out of her grasp with one last curl to her smile, folding her other hand briefly back across her stomach. Her voice tones down so it's somewhat milder, though no less ironic. "I've been back since Tuesday, pretty boy. I suppose they didn't want to make it a big fuss. Let me have my rest."

And to Odessa, without a hitch: "What I want is info. Nobody's been giving me any since I've been stuck in bed. Sanders told me something about cherry cobbler? She wasn't very specific."

Elle lets Peter's jawline slip out of her grasp with one last curl to her smile, folding her other hand briefly back across her stomach. Her voice tones down so it's somewhat milder, though no less ironic. "I've been back since Tuesday, pretty boy. I suppose they didn't want to make it a big fuss. Let me have my rest."

Peter groans, loudly at the comment, and it's enough to rouse him from his stupor of Elle being back. "Woods." It's all he can manage to groan out with a hand covering his face. He breathes in deeply, then exhales a sigh, looking over to Odessa for a moment, then Elle. "You'll have to talk to Director Dalton. She's put me and Agents Fitzpatrick and Lee on the investigation. I was actually here to get some information about that, but Odessa hasn't heard back from Doctor Suresh yet."

There's a moment of hesitation, then a wince, and Peter rubs at his right temple with two fingers. "Speaking of that, Director Dalton wants you to give me a full exam when you have time, Odessa. I'm also supposed to schedule an examination by Doctor Salonga. She wants the results as soon as possible too…" He doesn't sound entirely comfortable with that, and his words come out distracted, continuing to steal glances in Elle's direction. There's a disheartened expression on his face, because Bryan was right, he didn't get to play the hero.

"Cherry cobbler," Odessa repeats. "Definitely a Woods-ism." A series of three shril beeps sounds from the doctor's pocket. She retrieves her pager and frowns. "I… I need to handle this. Excuse me, would you?" She pushes past the two agents and goes taking off out the door and to the hallway at a quick dash.

And Elle is left looking at Peter after Odessa dashes out, quirking one of her eyebrows in a resigned exhalation. "Well. So much for that."

Peter watches as Odessa darts off, one hand coming up to his face as he hangs his head slowly, breathing out a sigh through his nose. "She didn't schedule — " A groan cuts off his words, and Peter's left in the office with Elle, feeling the eyes on him. As he looks up, through the cage of his fingers, his hand slowly slides down and away from his face. "Is she always like that?" One brow raises as Peter takes a step closer to Elle, head tilting to the side as if he were trying to, finally, determine for himself if she's real or not.

Oh, Elle is very real. As real the hand that carelessly brushes the other in its folded position on her chest, as well as the somewhat (more sincerely) curious expression she gives him now, watching him step towards her. "Always running off the in the middle of stuff?" She lets the end of the question hang, its only resolution a very light chuckle in the end of her wording. "Probably. She's probably been really busy, lately. But I haven't been in touch."

The supposition at the end of Elle's sentence is enough to urge Peter to ask the inevitable, "How did you escape from Adam?" He takes a step forward, one hand perhaps unconsciously reaching out to grab at Elle's shoulder, a pleading expression crossing his face, "Do you know where he is? What he's doing? Do they have him here?" There's an almost frenzied look in Peter's eyes for a moment, both of them darting back and forth to peer at one of Elle's eyes and then another, and there's just a moment of hesitation in his expression when it seems like he almost wants to reach for that answer before she can even respond; but he relents, only in thought, not in his grip.

It's Elle's turn to be surprised at the shoulder grab, though she doesn't extricate herself from it. Her eyes simply flicker into Peter's, reading them. "A few of our people came for me," she informs. "Nobody knows where he is right now." He definitely isn't where he was when she last left him. Burning down someone's apartment seems to have that effect. "Trust me - if I knew where he was, I'd be making his life plenty miserable for him." It's easy to get the impression that she's not kidding. At all.

The hand immediately recoils, as if somehow Elle were a hot surface to touch, more that Peter finally realized he was grabbing at the young woman. His hand recoils, fingers rubbing together as his head tilts to the side. He exhales, deeply, and lets his eyes wander from her as he turns around, running that same hand through his hair as he paces a few steps away from her, "Damnit."

The hand slides up across Peter's face, fingers rubbing at his brow briefly before he turns around and looks back to Elle. "I… I made a promise to your father that I'd rescue you." He sounds almost bitter about that now, looking over to Odessa's desk for a place to focus. "He — It's — " His words fail him for a moment, and he just lets both of his shoulders sag as his hands slip into the pockets of his pressed slacks. "Have you talked to him at all since you've been back?"

Something about that seems to amuse the slender Agent more, however, and she continues to look after Peter with the same smile after he's turned around. One could even say that it's blossomed a little in size, still with amusement. "Of course I have - he's my dad," she says sincerely, reaching out to give him a gentle little backhand at his wrist. "Hey, now. Don't tell me that was why you had the mopey face on, earlier?"

There's a bit of a grimace at the question, and Peter manages to give Elle something of a lopsided smile, "It — Yeah." There's no sense in lying about that, not here, and not to her. "I just — I was supposed to…" His eyes wander for a moment, "I thought I was supposed to save you. I mean, I had this dream and — " He cuts himself off before he sounds even more crazy than he already does on a regular basis. "I've just got a lot going on right now," his shoulders rise and fall slowly in a weak shrug. "A lot going on right now…"

But Elle seems interested after the flux of that moment, in an observant and quietly entertained sort of way. "Tell me about your dream." No, there's no bias in her voice. She genuinely /does/ sound like she wants to know.

"I'm not sure if…" Peter's brow tenses and he breathes out another sigh, reluctantly. His pacing ends up settling in front of Odessa's desk, which he leans back against, half sitting on it with his hands still tucked into his pockets, a rather lazy posture hanging about him. "It's something I do, I mean, I don't have control over it. I have these, dreams, not like normal ones. They're vivid, they can hurt, it's like I'm living them, you know?" One brow is raised as he looks back over to Elle, the expression creasing the scar that travels across his face. "They happen — or, well — things in them happen in a way." Peter lowers his eyes, letting them wander the black and white checkered floor instead of Elle. "I was attacked by someone, here, in Level-5. He was taunting me, about… how I've never done any good for anyone. My only reply was that I had, because I saved you." Peter's dark eyes drift up to Elle again, and he slides one of his hands out of his pocket. Fingers spread, and tiny arcs of lightning start dancing over his fingertips. "…and I had your power in the dream."

The blue glow of Peter's electricity reflects deeply in Elle's own eyes, and for a moment, she is silent as she stares at Peter's fingertips. "I've never seen anyone with my ability before," she responds at last - stirring a little, exhaling and inhaling a breath that's then held. This hadn't been where she had been expecting the conversation to turn. Perhaps some cute little recollection of a wishful daydream, and then they could both laugh about it later; he sheepishly, she not.

She continues to follow that glowing hand with her gaze. Maybe contrary to expectation, she does not produce voltage any of her own, but lifts her own fingers as though to touch the little bolts as they arc from one finger to the next. "…Did they say what you'd save me from?"

The blue glow of Peter's electricity reflects deeply in Elle's own eyes, and for a moment, she is silent as she stares at Peter's fingertips. "I've never seen anyone with my ability before," she responds at last - stirring a little, exhaling and inhaling a breath that's then held. This hadn't been where she had been expecting the conversation to turn. Perhaps some cute little recollection of a wishful daydream, and then they could both laugh about it later; he sheepishly, she not.

She continues to follow that glowing hand with her gaze. Maybe contrary to expectation, she does not produce voltage any of her own, but lifts her own fingers as though to touch the little bolts as they arc from one finger to the next. "…Did they say what you'd save me from?"

"No." Peter's brow tenses and the electricity stops with a crackling snap a moment after Elle puts her fingers into the arc, and his hand slowly lowers to rest with his palm down against the desktop, fingers curled around the edge. "I… I just figured it was from Adam. I mean, it's why I even stayed here. It's the whole reason I started working for the Company, to save you." His brow tenses for a moment, and then he looks back up to Elle, a concerned look flashing across his eyes. "After I said that, he laughed. He didn't think I saved you, because you were trading one cell for another." Dark eyes divert from the blonde again, a troubled look in them. "Now I'm not sure what that all meant."

"Better not fry Knutson's papers." As Peter lowers his hand, Elle interjects with sudden wryness, solemnity retracting like tentacles. Her lips curve into a closed smile. "I'd get it out of your head that I need saving, if I were you. Look - I'm obviously okay. And I'm not letting those creepbags get away with me again, you know." She spreads her upraised palms very slightly, almost shrugging, as if confirming her point.

There's a bit of a smirk, and Peter nods his head slowly, "Yeah, you seem fiesty." There's a hint of a smile there as he looks back up to Elle, the first real sign that he can have any other facial expression aside from dour this whole time. "So do they have you on medical leave for a while? I can't blame you for wanting to get up and out of those beds and back to work." Peter tilts his head down slightly, looking back to his shoes. "You should talk to Sabra," he opines after a moment, "See if she can set you up on the Rage-Dementia case. I'm sure once Odessa gets her information back from Suresh we're going to need all the hands we can get."

"Yeah, you can't imagine." This is said with a tiny shake of Elle's head. "This is the longest I've been out of commission in my life, I'm pretty sure. I'm planning on talking to Sabs, though I'm gonna ask her if I can go after something a little…more personal, first. Either way, yeah, I'll be happier doing anything." A warm and critical version of Elle's smile meets Peter's.

One of her hands reaches back and over her neck to scratch at a bare shoulder, meditatively. "I should probably get going. Odessa'll have one of her little fits if I'm not back ~in bed.~" Something suggests to Peter that it's not Odessa she's going for - or thinking about, however.

Peter tilts his head to the side, that smile growing a bit as he laughs to himself, folding his arms acorss his chest as he scrutinizes Elle just a little bit, "If you go after them…" Her vague suggestion of assignment wasn't misunderstood, "I'll back you up — Officially or not. I've got something to settle with Monroe." Peter's brows tense for a moment, and the dark-haired agent only affords Elle another simple and thin smile. "Go get some rest. Once you're feeling better, I'm sure there'll be planty for you to do." He grins, maybe he's teasing, maybe he's not. But whatever's the case, he's in a much better mood now than he has been.

"Not as much as I do." With that upturn of a corner of her mouth, Elle seems convinced of it. If she is a little surprised at hearing Peter has a past history with Adam, she doesn't show it; there's plenty of time to ask later. She pauses by the door on the way out, not unlike the way she had when she had come in. This time, though, she tosses her head back towards Peter in a fall of blonde hair, though her back remains turned. "…See you around." The parting shot contains a trace of irony (mockery?), and soon the heels are click-clicking back just the way they'd come.

November 3rd: Women With a Mission

Previously in this storyline…
Remonstrance and Requital

Next in this storyline…
One of Us, Two of Them

November 3rd: Your Best Interest
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